


C'est La Vie

by gendryw4ters



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Record store au, Swearing, but im gonna do it anyways cause life's too short, dubious narration bc i am still not so good at, i am concerned that this isnt as good as the last one, im also stone cold sober this time so if this IS worse than last time, luz loves bad music and toye does Not, then we know where my creativity really comes from, what up everybody itcha girl back at it again, with the cracky but kinda not cracky music vibes, yknow not using too many epithets etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:07:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gendryw4ters/pseuds/gendryw4ters
Summary: another ficlet set in the record store au that's somehow consumed my entire life since i started it last nightpre-spice girls (the fic not the band); george luz's first day at his new job





	C'est La Vie

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd (when are they ever not?), and no disrespect intended
> 
> hope you enjoy the ride x

"So yeah, just, y'know, stack shelves and enjoy yourself. And once again," the redhead grinned warmly, as he finished with a mocking flourish, "this has been Babe speaking. Any further questions, be sure to flag down one of our _lovely_ assistants. Now, figuratively speaking, sit back, relax, et cetera et cetera. And welcome to Toccoa Records." 

George Luz could only grin in response as he out his hand for the other to shake. "Aye aye cap'n. Pleasure's all mine." 

His other new coworker (who he thinks Babe had introduced as being Bill, maybe?) had snorted at that, "you think Babe's the captain? I'm the one who runs this joint really, 'specially when Nixon's not around. Joe might disagree if you ask him, but we all know who's pulling the strings. Either way, it's not Babe, that's for sure." 

Babe had looked momentarily offended, before shrugging and giving a resigned nod of agreement. "Bill's probably right. Oh! By the way, ya gotta fill in one last form, just for like-" 

All three heads immediately turned towards the door as it flew open, perhaps a little more violently than the now sheepish looking perpetrator had intended. Luz's jaw had gone somewhat slack at the sight of the figure, who had only offered him a confused frown in return. 

"George Luz, Joe Toye, and vice versa," Bill's voice was enough to snap him out of his stupor, and George had found himself holding out his hand once again. 

Joe had taken it with only a little hesitation, and _fuck_ his grip was firm. George didn't remember Babe or Bill ever warning him about this, sure they'd mentioned their fellow employee once or twice, but never once had they thought to bring up the fact that he was fucking _gorgeous_. 

"Great, don't be an asshole and we'll be fine."  

And George'd be damned if he was going to let the reserved and indifferent nature of the greeting deter him from at least trying his luck. "Oh, I dunno if I can commit to that, might have to fire me right away," he joked, deciding the comedic route might be the best place to start. 

The silence that had followed had been possibly one of the most uncomfortable moments in the entire history of Toccoa Records' existence, and Babe had really taken one for the team when he finally broke it. 

"So uh, the form I was on about, there's a stack of em under the cash register desk, if you wanna go look for them." 

"I, uh, yeah- yeah right," George all but flung himself behind the desk, hoping that none of the others could see how red his cheeks had gotten as he began rummaging through the mountain of paperwork they had shoved haphazardly beneath the counter. 

"Right, well, I know it's been fleeting, but I'm gonna go pick up a coffee before it all kicks off for real, so..."  

_For fuck's sake,_ George had groaned internally, _why's he gotta have a hot voice too?_  

"Hey new guy, you want anything?"  

"I take my coffee how I take my men," he called out from beneath the desk in response, deciding another stab at humour couldn't damage his chances that much more. "Tall and frothy and pumped full of sugar and cream and whatever flavoured syrups you can find."   

"Latte it is," came a tired sigh, "I'll be half an hour, tops."  

"With syrup! The caramel kind!" George yelled after him, finally emerging from his search for the papers with the correct form in hand. "Is he gonna get syrup?"  

"You'll be lucky if you even get sugar," Babe laughed, spinning a little in the chair he'd assumed next to where George had been digging. "I gave up on asking him for anything other than Americanos a while back. So... You take men, huh?" He stopped spinning, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Not to be, y'know, intrusive or anything."  

George gave a shrug, "not fussed either way. Why, planning to hit on me anytime soon?"  

Babe had just laughed some more, leaning back in his chair in order to start spinning again. "Nah, I'm taken. Was just wondering. You're not my type, anyways, no offence." 

"Well now you got _me_ wondering," George had countered light-heartedly, frisking himself until he found the pen he'd remembered shoving hastily into one of his pockets that morning. He began filling out the form, hoping they'd be able to interpret his scribbly writing without too much help. "What is your type? Since we're skipping any further formalities and getting straight to the good stuff, I mean." 

"Christ, don't set him off, we literally only just got him to shut up about McDreamy the week before you got the job," Bill griped with a heavy roll of his eyes, though he had the sinking feeling that his warning had come all too late.  

"Gene Roe, _the_ hottest trainee doctor you could ever lay eyes upon," Babe began, scowling as his coworker pretended to retch. "Oh come on, it's not like we didn't have to spend fucking months listening to you drone on about Frannie, beautiful, lovely, oh so wonderful _Frannie._ " 

"What d'ya expect, she's an angel," Bill had shrugged in response, before turning his attentions back to George. "So if Babe here's not doing it for ya, heaven knows why, then what is your type, huh? Whilst we're on the subject." 

"Honestly?" 

"Honestly." 

"Joe." 

"Well _shit._ " 

 

* * *

 

"Who the _fuck_ is playing this _shit?!_ "  

"Ah, you forget how door handles work again Toye?" Babe smirked from the top of his step ladder, where he was busy cleaning some of the harder to reach shelves. He wouldn't normally be the first to diss his coworker when he was in one of his famously bad moods, but he was fairly confident that he was safe up on the highest step- Joe might be temperamental, but he wasn't about to let Babe hit him with a personal injury lawsuit. He also wasn't stupid enough to try throwing hot coffee at him when gravity wasn't on his side. "We let Luz have a go at being DJ of the day, he is new, it's only fair."  

"But it's  _my_ day, that was the deal- it's on the rota and everything!" Joe slammed the coffees down on the counter, and the petulant look on his face was almost enough to set Babe off laughing again.  

"Look, those rotas are old, and Monday begins with L, it makes sense that we give him it. You can have Tuesday- Toyesday! Why didn't we think of that sooner?" 

"But today is my day, mine, me," Joe continued to grumble, "and- hey- Monday does not begin with an L, what the fuck?"  

"It does in French," Babe shrugged, grinning. He wasn't great at it, sure, but he'd managed to pick up at least a couple words and phrases from his boyfriend, and often delighted in slipping them into his speech whenever he saw an opportunity to do so.   

"Oh sorry, did I miss the 'we're all suddenly bilingual' memo or something?"  

"Joe, _you_ arebilingual."  

"Yeah,  _en_ _madito_ _espa_ _ñol_ _!_ "  

"Doesn't Monday begin with an L in Spanish too?" Bill piped up from behind his laptop, where he'd been furiously trying to finish the last of his college coursework whilst Nixon was away. "It's Lunes, ain't it?" 

"No it- Well- Yeah- Fuck you, that's not the point!"  

 "What's the point? Did I miss something?" And there he was, the guilty party.  

The tall, double-denim wearing, and (though Joe's loathe to admit it)  _infuriatingly_ attractive new guy.  

_George Luz_ , his mind fills in for him, _his name is George Luz._    

"You think you can just waltz on in here and start playing trash like this?" He turned viciously on his heels, glaring at the newbie. _George._ "We're a respectable fuckin' business here."  

George had only shrugged in reply, "hey, last I heard, this was Nixon's business, not yours. Besides," he flashed the other a shit-eating grin, as B*Witched kicked into the final chorus of _C'est La Vie_ over the speakers, and tugged at his jacket. "Double denim represent."  

"In case you're weren't aware," Joe had almost growled, wishing he hadn't found the smile so fucking alluring. "Nixon's not even here. He's on holiday with his husband."  _Again,_ he added as a silent afterthought. Sometimes he had felt as though he was the only one in the store who ever did anything, though he wasn't often one to complain.   

Until he was forced to confront the prospect of another four hours of cheesy 90s anthems, that was.  

He was about open his mouth to continue ranting when Bill had cut him off with a noisy sigh.   

"Geez Joe, would ya lighten up for once?" He rolled his eyes, slamming his laptop shut to get up and stretch his legs, "let him have some fun, it's his first day."  

"Yeah," Babe nodded in agreement, and sometimes Joe absolutely despised the comradery that had developed between the two of them. "'sides, all the customers we had in your absence loved it. Could be good for business. Give it a chance." 

 

* * *

 

 

And so he does. Joe gives it a chance. Hates himself for it too, though a little part of him can't help wondering if maybe the suffering is worth it to see the way the hot newbie's face lights up every time some new and equally terrible song began blaring out through the speakers. It was almost as though he'd forgotten that he'd made the damn playlist in the first place, the way he'd gasp in delight as the next torturous track faded in.  

It was almost cute, Joe had decided. Fuck, it was _really_ cute. Maybe having a hot, albeit somewhat annoying, new member of the Toccoa team wouldn't be so bad after all. 

And then suddenly he was being silently serenaded by the coworker in question, and no, this was definitely going to be as bad as he'd initially thought it would be. 

_"Here I go, here I go, here I go again,"_ and Joe would be lying if he said he hadn't admired the passion and showmanship with which George had begun to lip sync along to the music.  

He only wished it hadn't been directed at him.  

"Would you fuck off and start returning all the vinyls to their proper places, please?" He'd groaned, fisting a hand through his hair. He figured it wouldn't do well to dropkick a new employee on his first day, especially not if he was potentially hoping to ask him out at some point during his time at the only store in the whole area that would take him on in as it was.    
   
George, of course, had remained entirely unperturbed, and managed to complete the task at hand without missing a beat of his performance on the side. He'd even managed to almost, _almost,_ shimmy up ridiculously close to the object of his affections during a particularly brave reprise of the chorus. It was only the fourth gravelly "fuck _off_ Luz" that had finally put an end to it, as he decided it was better not to push his luck too dangerously. 

Joe had sighed in relief as the other danced off to go and pester Bill instead, though Babe (who'd been watching the entire scene unfold from his perch up on the ladder, where he'd remained despite having finished clearing the shelves ages ago) was quick to note the shy smile that had flickered across his lips as he turned away and shook his head. 

Babe had whipped out his phone in an instant at that, opening up his messages and flicking through them until he'd found the number he'd been searching for. 

_"Yo Nix_ ," he'd typed out in a hurry, not wanting Bill to call him out for texting during his shift. " _We gotta call and emergency staff_ _meeting the second you get back. Just you me and Bill. You're not going to fucking believe this."_  

**Author's Note:**

> good god i have so many essays due next week
> 
> i got the idea of joe speaking spanish from a fic called Te Amo by peggy_hamilton (which you should totally go read!! it's great!)
> 
> tbh the luz/cheesy pop songs thing is a notion i have thus far carried through all of my writing (inc. an unfinished unpublished baberoe behemoth), and i dont think im ever going to stop 
> 
> also! in case anybody is curious, this is a brief summary of the stuff i listen to whilst writing these things https://playmoss.com/en/gendryw4ters/playlist/luz-mondays-2 x


End file.
